


Like Gods at the Dawning of the Day

by Anonymous



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - Canadian 21st c., Political RPF - France 21st c.
Genre: A shit ton of references, Cuddling & Snuggling, Em is bragging and J is calling him out on it, M/M, Misuse of Political Speeches, Oral Sex, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sexual Roleplay, Tags for the other chapters to be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Emmanuel’s love for books is notorious, as is his love for symbolism.A metaphor. An idea. And Justin, who can’t rid himself of it.
Relationships: Emmanuel Macron/Justin Trudeau
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Anonymous





	Like Gods at the Dawning of the Day

**Like Gods at the Dawning of the Day**

* * *

_There is the heat of love, the pulsing rush of longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad._  
_Homer, The Iliad_

* * *

**New York City – September 24 th, 2018**

Emmanuel scrubs a hand across his brow, eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop.

It’s late–as always, not yet midnight but close to it and, as always, he’s still working. Or rather attempting to work as Justin has proven himself to be quite a distraction throughout the evening. He shouldn’t be surprised, nor is he actually for Justin’s distraction tonight is a most welcoming diversion to spending the last hours alone in some hotel room.

Just as Justin’s, his tie and jacket are long gone; the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He had opened or rather had to open the first three buttons right after Justin had pinned him against the door to kiss him. That, in fact has been the first distraction of many.

Rising from the sofa nearby, Justin comes to stand in front of the massive desk, hand-carved Vermont oak. Its dark wood makes Emmanuel think of the Ivy League colleges; of wood-paneled dining halls, where everything spoke of long forgone history; of academic excellence; of selectism and social elitism. A total number of sixteen Presidents of the United States have attended Ivy League colleges; though some sell their less prestigious undergraduate degree as if it’s an MBA degree. (1a/b)

Gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, Justin leans in, peaking at Emmanuel’s documents that are scattered across the desk. “Aren’t you yet finished?”

Emmanuel gives Justin an apologetic smile. “Not quite,” he says, shaking his head. He’s not yet fully content with the speech he’s going to give tomorrow at of the United Nations General Assembly. “It still needs some polishing and fine-tuning. Whilst the parts about Iran, the Middle-East Conflict, Trade and a couple of other paragraphs are perfect, the part about the French G7 presidency next year still needs some improvement.”

Justin looks at his watch, then back at Emmanuel. “It’s time to bring it to an end, don’t you think?”

“Words are powerful,” Emmanuel says, sipping his wine. Today’s date is heavy with history; from memory alone, he can name two important events that have happened twelve and eighteen years ago, respectively. (2) “They are powerful agents to bring visions alive; define what is conceived–and understood. And hence, that speech must be flawless.”

Justin rounds the table, trailing a finger along its edge and Emmanuel’s gaze is fixed on it. “Are you certain you are always understood?”

“What do you mean?” Emmanuel asks, setting down his glass the moment he feels Justin’s hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

It’s yet another most welcoming form of distraction, a surge of anticipation already flowing through his veins. His muscles are stiff, nearly as hard as bone from too many hours of sitting and he rolls his shoulders against Justin’s large hands in what easily can be interpreted as a silent plea. Justin’s hands somehow find its way beneath Emmanuel’s shirt, and when Justin presses the palms of his hands against the knotted muscles, Emmanuel sighs in content. Justin is kneading harder, fingertips pressing into the aching muscles, drawing pain and tension out, and each and every touch leaves heat and ease in its wake.

“I mean exactly what I was saying,” Justin states, now gently rubbing circles into Emmanuel’s back, which makes him exhale loudly. He can’t see the teasing smile on Justin’s face, doesn’t have to know it’s there. “Anyway, I never knew you speak Greek.” (3)

Emmanuel can’t refuse the urge to dip his head back against Justin’s chest, looking up at him. “I don’t,” he states, one eyebrow raised for it is beyond him why suddenly Justin comes up with that question.

Justin draws his eyebrows together in that quite specific way, which Emmanuel has come to love so much. “I heard you speaking it?”

There’s a teasing edge to Emmanuel’s voice when he replies. “Did you miss me so much that you hit YouTube late at night?”

Justin withdraws one hand from Emmanuel’s shoulder, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, I was preparing something on my own and was in some need of inspiration.”

“Inspiration … Be that as it may,” Emmanuel says, smirking. “I don’t speak a single word of Greek. Everything I said that day was learned phonetically for I thought it fitted the occasion–the place where I was speaking; would break the ice between me and my audience. You know, of late Greece is quite tricky for every European Head of State.” (4)

Justin’s eyes have grown wide. “Phonetically?”

“Yes. Quality is not an act, it’s a habit.” Emmanuel says, reaching upwards to cup Justin’s face with both hands. It’s indeed about time to stop working for once. “As much as I appreciate Greek philosophy and its metaphors, the political ideas, the literature–I can’t speak a single word of modern Greek.”

“And you really are surprised that some say your arrogance scrapes the stars,” Justin laughs, covering Emmanuel’s hands with his own. “Whose quote did you steal now?”

“Aristotle,” Emmanuel gives Justin his most radiant smile. “So hubris it is you accuse me of now–or what the word means in our days for originally, its connotation had been something entirely different, not even remotely associated with the meaning it has now.”

Justin’s look says a thousand words, most of them iterations of ‘ _just like this’_ , but he still has the urge to say it out loud with a snort. “The perfect example of it, really.”

Emmanuel shrugs, withdrawing his hands from Justin’s face. “Ancient Greece and the Roman Empire has always fascinated me," he states, allowing his thoughts the liberty to drift back to the days when he had read the Iliad for the first time in his life.

His love for books has always been notorious, even then. From the first read of the Iliad, it had just gone: he had devoured the works of Homer, Ovid, Vergil, and many other authors, losing himself in the myths surrounding the ancient gods, in the struggles and desires of mankind; themes that are never truly out of date, often enough projecting his own life, dreams, and ambitions to ancient lore and history both for the parallels are undeniably there. (5) And furthermore: he loves to drape himself in symbolism.

Even now, his mind goes astray, comparing. Justin has stepped into a space that so far was uninhabited, taking the chance to fill it the moment they first met, not unlike the space Patroclus has filled in Achilles life over two thousand years ago. And although Homer has never explicitly portrayed them as lovers, many others during that period did, and yet: their relationship–the actual fusion of two souls–was so much more than simple erotic passion.

Justin’s voice breaks through his musings. “Care to share your thoughts with me?” he asks, breath suddenly close, too close to Emmanuel’s ear.

Emmanuel switches his laptop finally off, then turns around in the office chair.

“Not at all,” he states with a smile, spreading his legs so that he can roll closer towards where Justin is still standing. “I was just thinking about the space Patroclus has filled in Achilles’ life–and _vice versa_. When I first met you, or rather in the wake of our first meeting it wasn’t much different. You filled a space so far uninhabited, has been filling it ever since and just like them: our relationship is so much more than just simple erotic passion.”

A faint blush spreads across Justin’s face, which Emmanuel finds so very charming. “And _vice versa_ , it’s true,” Justin murmurs, carding his fingers through Emmanuel’s hair, and in response, Emmanuel is gazing upwards. The position they are in is compromising; and it’s equally arousing. Even through the fabric of their clothes, he feels the warmth of Justin’s skin, inhales his smell. “Achilles wished all Greeks would die so that he and Patroclus could conquer Troy alone.”

Emmanuel’s eyes widen at the statement. “I never knew you had a philosophical streak until now.”

Justin laughs, twining his hands together at the back of Emmanuel’s head. “Trust me, I haven’t, not even when drunk. NBC's Hannibal has.”

“A pity,” Emmanuel says, all feigned disappointment for he loves Justin exactly the way he is–down to earth, grounding him whenever he’s flying a little too high. “For I was about to ask what our Troy was.”

Justin leans in. “I have already conquered what my heart desires; and so have you.”

“Omnia vincit amor,” Emmanuel murmurs, remembering the night when first he has used the quote as if it was yesterday.

Justin answers, placing a kiss to Emmanuel’s forehead, “et nos cedamus amori.” (6)

“It’s true,” Emmanuel says quietly, wishing that Justin would kiss him properly instead of continuing his teasing. “Love conquers everything, and no words can describe how much I cherish that we surrendered to our feelings. Finally. Ultimately”

Emmanuel hears Justin’s breath hitch when he says it and it makes him smile. “So am I.”

He had never been able to tell who initiated it ultimately, after dancing around the topic whenever they’ve met as if it was the last tango playing for months, but it doesn’t really matter. In a millisecond, right after the door of the hotel room has fallen shut behind them, his entire world had been reduced to the feeling of Justin’s lips on his, chaste at first, the touch soft and barely there, yet enough that gooseflesh had risen on his skin, surprised that his hands were already on Justin’s waist. The chasteness hadn’t lasted, nor have his hands on Justin’s waist, wandering into Justin’s hair as they have kissed and from there, things just went. It was just as Justin has remarked in his speech that day, _‘but neither can we wait.’_ (7)

That day they had been drawn to each other like magnets–or stars, burning, and lighting up the space around them, gravitating around each other for all eternity, and they still are.

“It’s a privilege if you think about it; conquering the world and in its wake what your heart desires,” Emmanuel murmurs, wrapping both arms around Justin’s waist to pull him close, closing the last remaining distance between their bodies, mind flooded by the images that have etched itself into his mind in exactly one year ago, same city, same hotel. (8)

The early morning light had filtered through the large windows of the hotel suite, catching itself in Justin’s hair, highlighting his features. He had looked more tired than Emmanuel has ever seen him before, lying on the sofa with his shirt still unbuttoned; but then, he had never seen him happier before, either; completely at ease with himself and the world, smiling at Emmanuel.

 _Like a god, at the dawning of the day_ , he had thought, falling for Justin’s otherworldly charms for it is impossible to resist Justin’s smile–back then just as now, for quite obviously Justin is smiling down at him as if he’s a god in his very own way.

“I,” Emmanuel says, or rather tries to as Justin silences him with a kiss.

He tries again, being silenced once more, but this time the kiss was hard and hot, alluding to moments yet to come.

“No,” Justin rasps and to Emmanuel, it is as if it’s a threat of a very special kind. “For once you let me do the talking.”

Emmanuel blinks, then grins, clasping both hands behind his head, elbows pointed out. “Go on, then,” he says, challenge lingering in his voice. “Talk. Lead.”

Justin isn’t intimidated. Not by the way Emmanuel sits, not by the snide remark. “You have a crucial meeting of international importance tomorrow; are supposed to give a flawless speech. It’s time to relax, don’t you think?”

Emmanuel's breath comes faster with every word Justin is speaking for it conjures images in his mind and his reply certainly is not as flawless as he would have liked it. “Have you ever heard me say anything that wasn’t flawless?”

Trailing his index finger across Emmanuel’s lips, Justin is saying, “I have a certain press conference we gave together in mind, yes. Mentioning a more private discussion and get carried away by it in front of the cameras wasn’t the most flawless thing you ever did. So stop bragging,” Justin says, sinking down onto his knees between Emmanuel’s legs. (9)

Emmanuel’s throat goes dry, and he feels his heart speeding up for he’s weak for Justin on his knees, has always been and Justin just knows how weak he is for it.

Emmanuel pretends to be outraged. “Me? Bragging?”

“Yes?” Justin’s lips curve into a smile. They both know he’s doing this occasionally although Justin insists he’s doing it quite frequently. “You quite like doing that, you know.”

“I–”

“Shut up,” Justin demands, and the way he says it, much harsher than he usually speaks, goes straight to Emmanuel’s cock.

Justin is busying himself with the buttons of Emmanuel’s shirt, purposefully taking his time when, in fact, he should rather busy himself with something else.

Emmanuel lets his mind go astray elsewhere, eyes never leaving Justin’s face though, for watching him when he’s like this, on his knees with a pliant tilt to his shoulders, gazing upwards from under dark lashes never fails to arouse him. Under different circumstances, Justin could even hide under that desk–it’s certainly high enough for it…

Finally, Justin undoes Emmanuel’s trousers with deft fingers, smirking as he finds him fully hard. “You seem desperate for me tonight,” Justin states, stroking his cock through the underwear and there’s nothing Emmanuel can argue against that.

How should he not be desperate when it has been so long ago when last they’ve met; how should he ever resist Justin’s distractions, his teases?

Justin doesn’t dwell on his remark, nor does he.

His train of thought is disrupted when Justin’s mouth, hot and wet, seals around the head of his cock, and lingers there, teasing as he loves doing it. Then, he moves his head up and down, once, twice before he lets his tongue move up the length, in a way that drives Emmanuel mad. Like this, seated and with Justin’s hands splayed across his thighs he can’t even buck forward. It’s a torture of the most blissful sort and within moments it has him gasping. Not that he’s complaining; and even if he wants to, the fire in Justin’s eyes would stay his tongue.

It’s as if Justin reads his mind, grinning when he withdraws to catch his breath.

The next time, he swallows down more and more of Emmanuel’s cock until its head is brushing against the back of his throat, and Emmanuel can’t stifle the moan. And so it goes, again, and again until Emmanuel whines out yet another desperate noise. There’s nothing flawless in the way he breathes some incoherency into the void the moment Justin goes deeper than ever before.

Emmanuel closes his eyes, even only for a second for he simply loves watching Justin sucking his cock, inhaling deeply to savior, to remember every bit of Justin he can get. Their moments are so rare; so precious–and for weeks he’ll feed on the memories he’s collecting whenever they are together. He has long lost count of the hours he has spent to study Justin’s face, eyes wandering along the small wrinkles life has left behind; the way Justin’s lips move when he speaks and smiles; how they move when they are wrapped around his cock. He lifts one arm and brings it to Justin’s face, fingertips trembling against Justin’s hollowed cheek for Justin presses his tongue flat against his cock and goes deep and deeper still, only to pull off entirely.

Withdrawing for a second to catch some air, Justin smirks, so widely that it extends to his ears. His lips are red and swollen, his perfect composure for once and for all gone; it’s hot and beautiful, but what’s more beautiful still is the knowledge that Justin is equally enjoying himself. Though it doesn’t always happen, Justin has come untouched like this.

Justin inhales through his nose and swallows thickly, trying to keep the rhythm in which he moves his head, and each and every movement sends Emmanuel closer towards the brink, coherent thoughts long gone.

Emmanuel’s breaths come out in short gasps as a response to Justin’s bobbing, fingers gripping the armrest of the chair until his knuckles shine white, whilst his other hand still remains on Justin’s face. Justin just has a natural talent to undo him, each and every time, and for once he’s not forced to hold back for the sake of not to be discovered. Being able to moan, to swear, to pant is a most welcoming diversion, one he cannot resist embracing, knowing well how much Justin loves those filthy sounds tumbling from his parted lips. Not that the lewd sounds of sucking Justin makes are less filthy.

Emmanuel’s so close, on the edge of release; and for exactly that reason Justin slows down, maddeningly so, taking obvious delight in watching the struggle on Emmanuel’s face. When Justin is withdrawing his mouth completely, taking his time to take a steadying breathing, Emmanuel can’t resist the urge to curse out loud; Justin is doing it on purpose just as he always does for he’s well capable of breathing through his nose, and he knows exactly what effect he has, how he must look like–on his knees, lips glistening and wet from sucking.

Sitting back on his haunches, Justin smiles, eyes fogged with lust. “I beg your pardon?”

Emmanuel is tempted to swear yet again. “Just… go on.”

“If you ask me nicely…” Justin’s voice sounds absolutely wrecked and it sends a shiver down Emmanuel’s spine.

It’s as if his mind has lost all its functions, although he doesn’t particularly mind it; all he manages to breathe out at Justin’s frivolities is a weak, “Justin…”

“Have you still not internalized the ancient Canadian proverb?” Justin asks, still catching his breath, still smirking.

“Please.” Emmanuel whimpers, when in fact he would rather say _Fuck you!_ for Justin’s little games are driving him mad.

Justin doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. He shoots him a dirty grin that all but says _‘I love you when you’re begging’_ before his lips are back on his cock again, taking him deeper than ever before. Emmanuel feels the slight resistance of Justin’s mouth before his throat closes around his cock and he’s again reduced to choke out flawed incoherencies, all the more as Justin is gasping for air as best as he can.

Emmanuel closes his eyes, finally and ultimately surrendering to the tight wetness of Justin’s mouth for in fact it’s the only thing he can do in this position, can’t even buck for the grip of Justin’s hands on his hips is like iron. He’s completely at Justin’s mercy, and he loves every bit of it.

A shiver wracks his body and he lets his head dip back over the chair as Justin goes especially deep again, moaning, which only encourages Justin further, remaining in that exact position for a few seconds. Emmanuel brings his hands up into Justin’s hair, raking them through the dark strands before they tighten in it as Justin moves his head again, increasing his efforts. He’s panting, face quite certainly red, tempted to hold Justin just there, nose pressed against his pelvis and for a split second he’s doing it–until Justin’s fingernails dig into his skin.

Like this, he’ll never last and even as he thinks it, his body jerks and spasms, hips bucking finally against Justin’s face, and all he can do is to cry out his lover’s name.

When at last he’s gaining his composure back, he looks down at Justin, and Justin is looking at him in return from under his lashes, face equally red. He looks completely wrecked and yet he smiles around Emmanuel’s softening cock.

Justin’s hands are twitching against Emmanuel’s thighs as he finally pulls off and licks his lips, laying his head down next to his hand.

Emmanuel can’t help to smile down at him fondly, letting his fingers run through Justin’s hair gently, then across his cheeks, his lips and when Justin stirs again, he can’t resist the urge to bend down to kiss him. He cups Justin’s face and lets his lips graze along Justin’s mouth, his own taste still lingering there and despite the warmth of the room, Justin shivers in the wake of it.

And just as he kisses Justin languidly, a sudden idea begins to form in his mind, of the sort he knows he cannot rid himself no matter how hard he tries.

“Damn it, Manu, what are you doing?” Justin asks, still on his knees the moment Emmanuel breaks the kiss and reaches backward to switch his laptop on again.

The look Emmanuel gives him is apologetic. “A line I want to add to my speech just came to my mind,” he explains.

Justin’s response, predictably, is to roll his eyes. Then, as Emmanuel begins to type, Justin stands, glancing over his shoulder. “Indeed, after Canada–whose leadership I want to pay tribute to here–” (10)

“You are ridiculous,” Justin snorts, most likely shaking his head as he loves doing it.

“Just as you,” Emmanuel says, giving Justin a glance across his shoulder. He’s noticing the blush spreading across Justin’s cheeks immediately. It is beyond adorable. “And I promise, I’m done.”

“Don’t promise me anything you can’t be certain you can keep,” Justin says with a laugh.

He has got a point there, Emmanuel has to admit for often enough, ideas come to him in the unlikeliest moments and he simply has to get them out of his head before he forgets.

Regardless, he takes Justin’s outstretched hand and rises, legs still weak and shaking and follows him to the sofa.

* * *

Just as so often, gentleness comes afterward, then, when the light of the room is dimmed and they get lost in each other, and each time it gets hard to remember that at one point they have to part for their life isn’t a timeless void; and each time, it’s harder to say good-bye for grief is only ever as deep as the love it replaces–which is growing every time they meet. And often enough, gentleness leads to something else; something that still resembles a waking dream of hips pressed flush together; of tangled arms and legs; of labored breathing until it’s almost dawning outside and silence falls around them for words are dispensable in moments like these.

Justin pulls Emmanuel closer, carefully arranging his head to rest against his shoulder, and for once, in his post-orgasmic haze, he just allows Justin the liberty to arrange and rearrange him as he wishes, a content sigh leaving his lips. It’s so rare that they’ve got so much time at hand; almost a full night–and of those more than two in a row, which is extraordinary indeed and it makes him smile. Whilst his mind slips away, Justin’s fingertips brush over his arm, his hands and absently, Emmanuel twines their fingers together, squeezing. And as a result, Justin raises their twined hands to his lips, kissing Emmanuel’s back of the hand with a smile that says more than words ever can. It’s the silent version of I love you–but in fact, it’s so much more–a promise that doesn’t need words at all. Emmanuel buries his face against Justin’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut with a fond sigh, fingers busy slipping beneath Justin’s undershirt.

When they are like this they never can get enough of those silent glances; of running their hands up and down each other’s skin, inhaling the smell of the other. Sometimes, one thing just leads to the next, whilst the next time, when exhaustion takes its toll for their days are always exhausting they just fall asleep like this for a few hours until the alarm rings at exactly 3 am.

“Justin, what is it?” Emmanuel asks quietly, glancing upwards as suddenly Justin’s fingers have stopped moving. And as he does, he notices that Justin’s face has transformed, and when he doesn’t answer right away, he addresses him again, a little louder this time. “Justin?”

Justin blinks as if stirred from a dream just that he hasn’t been sleeping. “Just something that has crossed my mind.”

Emmanuel arches his eyebrows, locking his gaze with Justin’s. “Since I’m fairly certain I’m a part of what crossed your thoughts: care to elaborate?”

Justin’s index finger trails along Emmanuel’s jawline, leaving a shiver in its wake. “Weren’t we speaking of arrogance earlier?” he says, excitement shining in his eyes, smile utterly disarming. “But yes, of course, you are part of it. My thoughts just returned to the Greek works we were discussing earlier.”

Emmanuel keeps his silence for Justin will elaborate anyhow in a moment; it’s always like this when he’s excited–or rather overly excited, which he certainly is right now judging from the way his eyes sparkle.

Just as predicted, Justin doesn’t remain silent. “You know how much I love Halloween,” he elaborates, voice breaking from excitement. “Perhaps, we could attend some Halloween event together… dressed like they were? I mean, you could visit and attend my party?”

Emmanuel snorts, in a manner that’s very unlike him. “And you call me out for using such an innocent sentence like private discussions in front of cameras,” he says with a laugh, ruffling Justin’s hair, which, in fact, isn’t so unlike how he has always imagined Patroclus’ hair whilst reading the Iliad. Yes, yes, a bit curlier perhaps, but then he has seen photos of Justin with extremely curly hair. “Because surely, us attending a Halloween party being dressed up as Achilles and Patroclus won’t raise _any_ suspicions. Even those who have no idea of the Greek epics have at least heard of the extraordinary friendship between Achilles and Patroclus.”

“Extraordinary friendship–see?” Justin is smirking.

“Friendship and beyond,” Emmanuel sighs, for Justin’s smile is quite disarming. “It’s an open debate whether they were in love with each other or not.”

Emmanuel places a kiss to Justin’s collarbone, who in response hums sleepily and leans into him even more if that’s possible.

“It’s an ongoing debate about us as well, remember?” Justin says, exhausted but not quite. “Why not grace the world with such a … metamorphoses of ourselves.”

Emmanuel arches an eyebrow. “Are you quoting me yet again?”

“I might,” Justin replies, kissing Emmanuel along his jawline. “Or I might just give a recommendation for a beautiful book.” (11)

Emmanuel doubts it’s Ovid’s Metamorphoses, no matter how beautiful it is. In fact, he doubts it is any of it, judging from the way Justin’s eyes gleam.

“Or your mind might be somewhere else entirely,” Emmanuel states, chuckling. Sometimes–no most of the time, at least when they are like this, Justin is an open book to read.

“You might be right in that,” Justin affirms, biting his lower lip.

Emmanuel is certain Justin does it deliberately for he knows what effect it has on him; and he’s not mistaken this time yet again. Despite having found release just a while ago, his body stirs again.

_Damn you._

“Do you feel inclined to share your thoughts with me?” Emmanuel asks, rolling over and crossing his arms on Justin’s chest.

“For once you’re not accusing me of oversharing?” Justin laughs, wrapping his legs around Emmanuel’s own in a quite ambiguous way. “The ancient theatre in Taormina… it is originally Greek; the Romans only reconstructed parts of it; expanded it, and despite it is in ruins, it still resembles an arena, sort of. My mind just traveled back there.”

Emmanuel eyes Justin for a moment before he says, “We weren’t alone, remember.”

Justin rolls his eyes before closing them. “Just use your imagination that we were; that we are,” he whispers, allowing his mind the journey, thousand years back in time. “Just imagine the sun washing over our skin, bronzed and glowing; the breeze of the ocean salty, playing through our hair, whilst the ground is dry and dusty… Taormina’s ruins could easily be Troy. Let our tale become one of those untold tales never told.”

Emmanuel thinks about the images Justin’s word conjure in his mind; imagines of how his back is pressed into the dust and Justin is sitting astride of him–it’s easy to dive into a world that doesn’t even remotely resemble the present. He’s never been known to be an idle dreamer; and yet dream he does at that very moment. With Justin, it’s so easy to forget what he usually is, and especially what he’s not.

“This… really gets you off, non?” Emmanuel murmurs, closing his eyes now too for the scenario is beautiful indeed. In his mind’s imagination, Justin’s gaze is reverent, his hands warm as the heated summer air around them as they travel across his almost naked body. Justin’s fingers trace the contours of his arms, sweeping across his collarbone until they glide down his chest in an agonizing pace.

“It does,” Justin says, voice low and husky, strangled almost, before he cups Emmanuel’s face and pulls him into a kiss. Kissing him is like Taormina’s unrelenting sun; hot and radiating and so bright; his lips salty like the winds from the sea. “But I am not alone in that.”

There’s no other option than to agree; his body can be quite treacherous. Leaning into the touch, Emmanuel murmurs, “Yes. Just … don’t let our story become one of misery and grief.”

In his head, it’s not. They roll across the dusty floor, laughing and teasing each other like teenagers oddly besotted with love; perhaps it’s because Achilles and Patroclus met when they were still quite young, with friendship becoming something else, something more; or perhaps it’s just because they behave like teenagers in love whenever they have the chance to.

He’s less guarded when he’s with Justin, even more so when they are like this; for once he’s not hiding behind metaphors and almost poetic words–there’s no need to–and it’s something Justin has always found oddly charming.

“Never.” Justin’s breath is his hot against his ears as he shifts upwards, legs and fingers already tangled, or rather sweep across Emmanuel’s stomach in an attempt to reveal more skin, and for once, Emmanuel is inclined to help him, suddenly too hot despite the little he’s still wearing. Within moments his undershirt is gone, added to the pile of clothes already scattered on the floor.

“I make this tale a song of power; of passion; of longing and love.” There’s such fondness in Justin’s eyes, so much love, and adoration that it warms Emmanuel’s heart and for that alone, he will gladly give into Justin’s wish. But it’s not that alone: the imagination of his mind has long surrendered to Justin’s idea. It’s glorious and unceasing, something they’ve never explored in their relationship.

“So you’ve got a poetic streak, after all?” Emmanuel wonders, laughing.

Justin grins. “Perhaps, I’ve spent a bit too much time in your company?”

“So you are blaming me?” Emmanuel pretends to be outraged.

“Yes,” Justin mumbles, and the way he does say it, the way he looks at him, fills Emmanuel with a rush of emotions yet again; lust, longing, desperation, love most of all–it’s all there clearly reflected in Justin’s eyes that it takes his breath away.

With ease Justin is reversing their position, straddling him now just in the way Emmanuel has seen it in his imagination, and for once, he is biting back the teasing remark about leadership, for indeed Justin seems keen on leading tonight, pinning Emmanuel’s arms down well above his head.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (0) The title is a variation of “like gods at the dawning of the world”, a quote from Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles
> 
> (1a) [ Freshman dining hall of Harvard ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/richardcclark/240852101)
> 
> (1b) [ Five Myths Donald Trump tells about Donald Trump @Washington Post ](https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/five-myths-donald-trump-tells-about-donald-trump/2016/01/28/b7cead16-c46e-11e5-9693-933a4d31bcc8_story.html)
> 
> (2) **September 24th, 1990:** Iraq invades the French and Dutch mission in Kuwait, an act which then French President Mitterrand called a violation of international law.
> 
>  **September 24th, 1996:** Bill Clinton signed the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty at the United Nations General Assembly, together with 70 other states.
> 
> (3) Macron held the opening of his speech in Athens in 2017 in Greek:
> 
> “Nearly 2,500 years ago, right here on the hill of Pnyx, the Athenians invented Democracy. The fact that I come to speak here, in the same place, in front of you, is, I know, a very great privilege. This is why I thank warmly the government and the Greek authorities, especially the Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras, who invited me to speak from this place.”)
> 
> [ Source of the translation ](https://www.ellopos.com/blog/4471/em-macron-a-speech-for-europe-athens-2017-full-text-in-english-and-video/)
> 
> And yes, just like the speech he gave at the Sorbonne (they are actually pretty similar content-wise), this is one my absolute favorite speeches he ever gave.
> 
> [ Full text in English ](https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/en/french-foreign-policy/europe/news/article/european-union-speech-by-the-president-of-the-french-republic-athens-07-09-17)
> 
> [ Watch it on YT 😊 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPuRfyDa-vk)
> 
> (4) It’s about time to throw out one of my favorite articles about Emmanuel Macron: [Orbiting Jupiter @ The Guardian](https://www.theguardian.com/news/2017/oct/20/emmanuel-macron-orbiting-jupiter-emmanuel-carrere)
> 
> (5) Yes, that’s referring to Em comparing himself to Jupiter, declaring, that “France needs a Jupiterian Head of State”  
> (6) “Love conquers all things, so we too shall yield to love.” From The Eclogues by Virgil
> 
> (7) ‘But neither can we wait.’ Line taken from Justin Trudeau’s speech at the United Nations General Assembly the year before, September 21st, 2017 [Complete Speech by JT as text](https://pm.gc.ca/en/news/speeches/2017/09/21/prime-minister-justin-trudeaus-address-72th-session-united-nations-general)
> 
> (8) The general debate of the 72nd Session of the General Assembly of the UN was held in New York, 19 - 25 September 2017.
> 
> (9) “I have a certain press conference we gave together in mind, yes. Mentioning a more private discussion and get carried away by it in front of cameras wasn’t the most flawless thing you ever did. So stop bragging.”  
> – what J refers to is from [ this press conference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjyMl9YpIuw) they gave together when Em was visiting Canada (June 2018). At 08:10 Em actually speaks about more private discussions (plus privée in the vid); and then, at around 9:00, he’s speaking about his reasons why he came to Canada and he just … seems lost for a short moment before he’s collecting himself again.
> 
> (10) “But this is also why the fight against inequalities will be the priority of France’s G7 summit presidency in 2019. Indeed, after Canada – whose leadership I want to pay tribute to here –, France will hold the next presidency of the G7, whose format I would like to thoroughly revise to involve more effectively several other powers, and work at new forms of coordination.”
> 
> The line is taken from Em’s speech at the United Nations General Assembly on September 25th, 2018.
> 
> [Complete Speech by EM at the UN General Assembly as text](https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/en/french-foreign-policy/united-nations/news/united-nations-general-assembly-sessions/unga-s-73rd-session/article/united-nations-general-assembly-speech-by-president-emmanuel-macron-25-09-18)
> 
> (11) Indeed, J’s quoting E’s speech in Athens 😊 “Europe itself has always been nothing but a metamorphosis! Those who would like to fantasize about an identity set in stone know nothing of the myth born on these shores, the myth of a constant metamorphosis!”[ Full text in English ](https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/en/french-foreign-policy/europe/news/article/european-union-speech-by-the-president-of-the-french-republic-athens-07-09-17)


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